A Beginning
by Simply Shelby
Summary: It was a beginning, unstable maybe, in the middle of a war, yes, but a beginning, nonetheless. Returning: After weeks of waiting on Sarah's part, James comes back.
1. The Beginning

A Beginning

By Simply Shelby

Sarah Phillips gazed outside the window of the Pennsylvania printer house. She would usually be doing something, but she was worried; deeply concerned. _Where was he? What was keeping him? He was three hours late, for God's sake!_ She sighed and shook her head, biting her tongue. A frown creased her forehead and she whispered, "Come on, James, where are you?"

James Hiller slouched deeply in his chair and twirled his quill around his fingers. His other hand was bound tightly to the leg of the chair. His eyes were closed, but the room was pitch black, anyway, and completely silent. He pushed a stray blonde hair out of his eyes. This was not a comfortable position to stay in for three hours. _Three hours! Sarah must be worried out of her mind! Oh, God, please keep Sarah hidden!_ "Stay, Sarah,"

Sarah was at the window again. She had gone ahead and set up the printer herself and had later gone to bathe. _He was still not back!_ Moses had retired an hour ago, but Henri sat at the kitchen table watching her curiously. She felt his eyes on her. "I am worried, Henri," she explained, "Very worried," she tucked her robe closer to her shoulders.

"Do not worry, Sarah," Henri comforted, "You know James: get into trouble, but always get out. I think Moses calls it... full of resource."

"Resourceful," Sarah corrected absently.

"Yes, that is it!"

"Henri, would you like me to put you to bed tonight?" Sarah whispered.

"Yes, yes, please, Sarah!" Henri agreed.

"Go on up and change. I will be there shortly."

She said a quick, but meaningful prayer, "God, protect James,"

The unseen clock chimed. James was guessing midnight. He had an awful headache. Why he was being held in the dark, he wasn't exactly sure, but from what he had caught, he was to be questioned at midnight. And, sure enough, the door opened, letting in a stream of light that burned his eyes. There was a man holding a candle. He shut the door and sat down in the chair across from James.

"So," the man said in a clear British accent, "Mr. James Hiller,"

"Yes, Sir,"

"Do you know why you are here?" the man asked.

"No, Sir,"

"Would you like to know?" the man asked again.

James squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the pain, "That would be favorable,"

"I apologize for any inconveniences, Mr. Hiller." James didn't open his eyes. The man went on, "But complete discretion was needed. We all have been following your articles very carefully..." James opened his eyes. The man's voice had changed somehow. The man continued, "They have decided, Mr. Hiller, that you are too much of a threat to the British..." James froze at the man's next words, "You must be eliminated."

James closed his eyes again. _So, they were going to kill him._

"...We must not let that happen."

James' eyes flew open and stared at the man, "Explain."

"Ah, yes, I'm sorry if my accent threw you. You, young man, are an incredibly talented youth. You also tell the Americans what exactly is happening in the war. You have made many men and women realize the need for freedom." The man glanced at his feet, "Including me. I am indebt to you. You saved me; now I will save you. The British will come looking for you early this morning. You will not be there. Understand?"

James's eyes widened, "What about Sarah? Moses and Henri, what of them?"

"They will be fine, I assure you, your friends are not wanted by them."

"You can assure me they will be safe?" James asked.

"Yes, I can,"

James nodded in consent.

Sarah made sure her robe was tucked firmly around her. The redcoat soldiers were giving her looks she did not like.

"You have not seen him since he left this morning? Are you sure?" the man in charge asked.

"I am positive! I would not be up waiting for him, if I had!" Sarah cried, "What has happened to him? Why do you want him? What has he done? Please, tell me!" her green eyes blazed.

"I am sorry to have frightened you, Miss Phillips. Now if you will excuse us..." the three men got up to leave.

"Yes, go ahead."

The men left, leaving Sarah to her worries.

"God, protect James, wherever he is."

Three hours had passed since the man had entered the room. James had been filled with questions, but the man had explained that he could not answer them. Even his name was to be left unknown. A messenger entered the room and whispered something to the man. He nodded and the messenger left.

"The soldiers have left. They have received a tip that you were headed to Boston. You will be escorted home, but I'm afraid you will have to leave blindfolded."

James nodded as the man tied a cloth around his eyes, "Thank you, Sir,"

The man never answered.

The men had left hours ago, but Sarah stood her post by the window. She was beginning to wonder if she should continue her vigil much longer. Daylight would be here soon. A familiar figure appeared out of the shadows, raising her spirits. Sarah threw the door open. James smiled at her. She couldn't bring herself to move, she was so overcome with relief. _Thank God._

James smiled at Sarah, a bit surprised to see her up at this time, but he remembered the redcoats had questioned her. Her emerald green eyes filled with tears and she leaned into the doorjamb for support. He rushed forward and took her into his arms, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" He stroked her soft, red hair and breathed deeply. She was shaking...trembling? "Sarah, Sarah," he whispered, "Sarah, what's wrong?"

Sarah didn't move. She only shook her head, burying it deeper into his shoulder. James put his hands on Sarah's shoulders and pushed her gently away form him. She was crying. Her lips were moving- the same words over and over: _Thank God, thank God, thank God..._ "Oh, Sarah," he moaned in sympathy, brushing a tear from her cheek, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have worried you."

Sarah tensed under his grip, "Worried me!" she whispered, "Worried me!" her green eyes flashed.

"I was... detained, Sarah, on my way back."

"Detained!" she yelled harshly, "Detained! And, what in God's name _detained_ you for so long!"

"Sarah..."he began.

She was shaking, this time from rage. She jerked out of his grasp and glared at him, tears streaming down her face, "What did you do? Why were they looking for you? What stupid prank did you pull? What did you do, James? I worried! I've stayed up all night long assuming the worst! God, James, I thought you were dead!"

"I would have been had I been here," James whispered, calmly.

"Dead, James, that's what I thought -what?" her face paled as his words registered, "What do you mean?"

James opened his arms slightly, "Come here, Sarah, I don't want you dropping of your feet."

She stepped into his embrace, tentatively. She was unused to this side of her friend, not to mention it was improper. But, it was just her and James. No one was there to yell at her about propriety. "What do you mean, James?"

He smiled grimly and wiped her tears, "The soldiers, Sarah, did they ask for my whereabouts?" Sarah nodded, "Do you know why?"

"They said they needed to speak with you,"

James sighed, "Not quite, Sarah. I said I was detained and I wasn't lying. I was...kidnapped and warned. It seems my writings have proved to be a threat to the British. They came here this morning to arrest me and silently kill me. After all, I am an orphan; no one would notice. But, before I-"

"I would notice," Sarah said, her voice lower than a whisper.

James glanced down, "What?"

Sarah gazed into James's deep sapphire eyes, her own eyes shining with an emotion James couldn't decipher, "I said, '_I_ would notice,' "

James froze. "Oh," his face was etched in disbelief, "I didn't think any one...well except for Ben- I mean, Dr. Franklin..." he stuttered, "I just thought...You would?" he finally finished.

"Yes, James,"

She was so beautiful, her hair, her eyes, her manner, the way she was always scolding him, and now _this_… she'd always had a way with words. James leaned down to kiss her. Her eyes slipped closed, but James caught himself. He let go of her and stepped past her, his back to her. His jaw clenched firmly. "I apologize, Miss Phillips, it was impulsive of me and I behaved with a conduct unworthy of a gentleman. Please forgive me."

Sarah stared at James for several minutes, wondering. He hadn't moved a muscle, waiting for her response. His voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"I-I understand if you cannot forgive me, but I beg of you to accept my apology."

"I…um...I accept your apology, James."

"Thank you," James walked toward the stairs, leaving Sarah to watch him, feeling disappointed. She knew that it would have been improper, but she _had_ wanted that kiss…

"Wait," James breathed andshook his head, slowly.Steeling his determination, he strode swiftly across the room, wrapped his arms around the girl and gently brushed his lips across hers in a feather-light kiss. Just as swiftly, he let her go and fled from the room.

Sarah was still reeling from James's impulsive action. A light blush graced her cheeks as she reached up slowly and gently touched her lips, awed. It was a beginning; unstable maybe, in the middle of a war, yes, but a beginning, nonetheless. And Sarah couldn't be happier…

FIN


	2. Decision

Decision  
By Simply Shelby

"Why not now?"

"We're in the middle of a war, Sarah; in case you hadn't noticed!"

Sarah Phillips glared angrily at the young man sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. Stirring the broth a bit harder that she probably should have, she sighed, "And what difference does that make? It doesn't change anything, does it?"

Gritting his teeth, James Hiller replied carefully, "No, Sarah,"

"Is it money? James, if it is, I could-"

The blonde-haired young man interrupted, "Hardly, Sarah,"

The wooden spoon made contact with the stone surrounding the fireplace. "You're not going to tell me about that, either, are you?"

He shook his head, "Sarah, I can't. I've told you that."

"The time is no excuse and money's obviously not a problem…" her voice trailed off, "Do- do you not want to- to marry me? Is that it?"

"Sarah," James reprimanded sharply.

Another sigh escaped her lips, "Forgive me, I lost my temper."

Since the night, or early morning rather, he had brushed his lips across hers, they'd found a reason to pursue some sort of relationship, more intimate than that of friends. And though it had been rather rocky, as any relationship is, they found themselves falling in love. It had been about six months since that kiss occurred and Sarah had thought they were ready for the next step. Apparently, she had thought wrong.

She felt lithe arms wrap around her waist and she leaned back into him. They were the only two in the house until later that night. Sarah had taken advantage by bringing up this conversation, whereas James tried to comfort and placate her. They'd been arguing for hours and Sarah was well beyond tired. She closed her eyes.

Smiling tenderly, James swept her up into his arms, sat back down in his chair, and deposited her in his lap. She squealed in surprise, then relaxed into him. She tucked her head in the crook of his neck and he rested his chin atop her head. They sat in silence for awhile without stirring.

After awhile, James said softly. "You want to know the facts, Sarah?" She nodded without opening her eyes. "Alright," he kissed her forehead, "Pay attention, then." Her eyes fluttered open in response and closed again. "The truth is, Sarah, I would marry you in a heartbeat; if not for a few things stopping me. The first being that we _are_ in the middle of the war, Sarah. And despite what you say against the subject, marrying in the middle of one isn't exactly good common sense."

"There's more, James. The circumstance isn't the only thing stopping you." The redhead murmured.

"Correct." James took a deep breath. "The money, then; you wonder where I get it. Well, Sarah, I'm a journalist- which is a really easy occupation to use to get different kinds of information. The type of information someone is willing to pay for, I suppose."

She looked up at him, aghast. "James!"

He stared right back at her, "What? It's not like I'm some Tory spy."

She cuffed him lightly across the cheek. "That's where you've been running off to without me. I'd wondered."

"Well, now you know."

"That's still no reason to- to not marry, James. Dangerous times just call for safer measures. Besides, what if you die before the war's over."

"Exactly," his voice was less than a whisper. "I'd hate to leave you behind with nothing."

She sat up fully now, "You wouldn't!" she protested. "At the very least, I'd have happy memories. I'd know that we'd had some time together as a… family."

James froze. His eyes slipped closed. He'd never thought about it that way before. A _family_… his _family_… their _family_? "There- there are rooms next door; for let, I mean." He admitted softly. "They're rather nice and not too expensive, close to the print shop, and… and…" He stopped stuttering and looked into Sarah's bright green eyes. "And if we were to get married, it would be the perfect place."

She smiled wide and brushed a kiss across his rugged cheek. "Does this mean..."

"Give me time to plan, Sarah! I've got to get a ring, contact your father- who is going to be nothing short of difficult to ask- plan the night, get a Reverend, get the rooms, talk to Dr. Franklin…" he looked up at her, "A wedding's awfully difficult, these days, isn't it?"

Laughing, Sarah gave him another kiss and stood back up, smiling all the while. She picked up the spoon from inside the pot and began stirring, jauntily, whistling a gay tune.

_But, perhaps, worth it? _James thought to himself. Seeing Sarah in such high spirits, he corrected himself.

_Definitely worth it._


	3. Dreams Dissolved

**Dreams Dissolved  
By Simply Shelby**

The stars glittered brightly against the dark canvas sky. The last tendrils of sunset had long since faded and the windows of houses had gone dark, the occupants tucked into their beds. It was a soft, summer night in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. A young couple walked the cobblestone streets, bathed in the moonlight, timidly holding hands.

They were silent, both of them basking in each other's simple presence. The past three weeks had been rather strenuous on their relationship. They'd both been on assignments, states away from each other, unable to communicate at all, except through letters, which rarely reached the other party in time.

James had stopped in Ohio, on his way back home, to make an inquiry with Sarah's father; a very important inquiry. He still hadn't told her how their meeting had gone. So, in a bout of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, she decided to ask, "How did it go? With my father, I mean."

James inwardly cringed. Honestly, it had gone terribly wrong in the beginning; the man had touched on some particularly raw points. He closed his eyes as he remembered the subject of his parents.

_"You don't have any family to speak of, do you James?"_

_A long, sharp pause, then, "No, sir."_

And then the subject of how on earth a boy like him, with absolutely no living _blood_ kin was going to take care of Major Samuel Phillip's little Sarah.

_"With all due respect, sir, she's not a little girl any longer." _

_"I suppose you would be one to notice, seeing as you think you want to marry her. But how are you going to take care of her; and what of future children?" The Major's voice was disapproving at the thoght of his daughter marrying such a pauper._

_Disgust was not something James appreciated and his temper did always speak before his mind. "I wasn't the one who sent her to live with complete strangers while traversing across the country. I've been taking care of her the entire time she's been in the Colonies! And I intend to continue doing it, with or without your approval, sir. The only reason I'm here is because I think she deserves something akin to approval from the man who imposes to call himself her father. But, I'll not have your disgust for me get in the way of her happiness. I would do anything; sacrifice anything for the sake of her happiness." _

The man had humbled after James's words, much to the young man's amazement. He had closed his eyes, acknowledging the admonishment.

_"You have sacrificed for her happiness, already. I know of the locket. Made from you mother's ring, correct?"_

_James nodded, silently._

_"And you are quite correct in the fact that I have no right to judge you for not having any family. You have my permission and approval of the marriage. You love her that is enough for me." _

_"Thank you, sir."_

"James?" Sarah's soft voice nudged him out of his reverie.

"He gave his approval." James responded stiffly.

"It didn't go well?"

"Sarah…" his voice was warning her.

She sighed, "He insulted you?"

The blonde man ran a hand through his hair, "He touched on some raw subjects, Sarah, that's all."

"That's all? Did he talk about your family? Did he talk about you?"

He was silent for a long moment before ducking his head and whispering a simple, "Yes."

"James…" she breathed, gripping his hand tighter. "I- oh- dear God… He had no right to say anything against you."

James laughed, almost cynically, "Sarah… that's one of the rights we're fighting for: the freedom to say what we want."

"You know what I mean!" she countered, indignantly, relieved he was arguing with her. She hated seeing him sad. It was the opposite of all she loved him for; his fiery spirit, so like her own. Another moment passed. Sarah gazed up at the twinkling stars and told her soon-to-be-fiancée, "I love you, James… for being you. Don't doubt that, hmmm?"

He chuckled and flashed her a brilliant smile, musing, "I've never been one for pessimism. Doesn't suit me all too well, does it?"

She couldn't help but smile back. "No, it doesn't."

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, "Well, then, I'll just have to-" He froze in mid-sentence, his whole body tensing.

"James?" she began, but he clamped a hand over her mouth and gave her a hard glare that told her she needed to "shut up."

He closed his eyes and seemed to be listening to something she couldn't hear- no, wait. She _could_ hear it: two men talking. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but the tones were anything but gracious. James had pulled his hand away from her mouth and was now shrugging off his frock coat and throwing it over her shaking shoulders, "Do you know Mr. Ludwick's bakery shop?" he said, his voice nary a whisper. She nodded, not daring to talk. "I want you to take this way there," he pointed in the opposite direction of the speakers, "and tell him what just happened, understand?" No, she didn't understand what was going on, but she nodded anyway. "Good." He put his hands on her shoulder and gave her a chaste, rushed kiss.

And the next moment he was gone, his figure dissolving into the now eerie, inky darkness of the night, leaving Sarah alone in the streets, clutching his frock coat close in hopes that it would comfort her from the fear that seemed to be choking her. As she watched his figure dissolve, she couldn't help but feel as though all her dreams had followed him.

* * *

**AN: **This chapter is hereby dedicated to Mercedes... and she better be grateful :) 


	4. Waiting with the Past

**Waiting with the Past  
By Simply Shelby**

Grunting in a most unbecoming fashion, Sarah glared at the dough underneath her hands, as if the floured, sticky substance was the cause of her frustration. She knew how she must look; her entire body dusted with flour, her hair falling out of its pins, her eyes red from tears, and her hands beating the mix that was soon going to be bread. If her mother were to see her now, she would send Sarah straight back to her "lady lessons" to refresh her memory.

She was the daughter of a Lady! She didn't deserve to be here. _He_ wasn't allowed to do this to her! He couldn't just abandon her for days on end without a word of what was going on. Tucking one of the many loose strands of hair behind her ears, she punched the dough again.

"Sarah, _lieb_," Mrs. Ludwick spoke from behind her, "What did the dough do to earn this hostility from you?"

The British girl sighed and shook her head, her russet and ginger tresses falling in front of her face. She didn't want the woman to see how upset she was. Nevertheless, Mrs. Ludwick was quite perceptive. "I would not worry much for him." Her voice was soft and reassuring. "I have known James since he was very small. He is a most resourceful boy. He can extract himself from any bad circumstance."

Sarah giggled delicately. "He _is_ quite adept. He must have had a lot of practise, I imagine." Afraid to go on, Sarah bit her lip. "You knew him when he was young?"

The German woman heaved a sad sigh. "He was one of the local _unruhestifters_. He stole a loaf of bread and _mein mann_ chased him down and brought him here for me to feed." Mrs. Ludwick's brown eyes were stuck in the past. "He was the scruffiest and scrawniest little boy I had ever seen. He wore no shoes and his clothes were so thin. It was in the middle of winter," she told Sarah, "I made up a bed of quilts for him by the fire, but he refused to stay." She shook her head. "It was snowing outside. He thanked me for the meal, but told me he didn't want to 'impose upon more of my generosity' when I had already gave him a meal."

"He was an orphan." Sarah mused, "It must have felt odd to have someone care for him."

"He cam to visit about a week later. I fed him and we talked. He told me that he was looking for Benjamin Franklin, the man who invented the lightning rod. When I asked why, he never responded. He would drop by ever week or two, but then we didn't see him for three or four weeks. I was so worried that he had… died."

Sarah's eyes were filled with worry.

"Oh, _mein lieb,_ do not worry so. He eventually came back. With shoes, of course, and thicker clothing, and as clean as a boy his age could ever be."

"He found Dr. Franklin."

Mrs. Ludwick nodded. "He did."

"Does he come visit you, still?" Sarah wondered.

"Often enough," she answered. "He's quite a busy young man and I'm just a friend from the past. Josef and I are so proud of him."

"He never speaks of you. But I don't understand why." Her hands were folded, her eyes inquisitive. "This is the first time I've ever heard of you and your husband as being so close to him. I didn't think he really knew anybody, besides Dr. Franklin."

The woman seemed surprised. "My husband and I... we come from a part of James's life that is... hard for him to remember. He was an orphan on a hopeless mission, stealing bread to survive. It must be painful for him to remember all the things he used to do in order to survive."

"Why send me here, now? He could have told me to go anywhere."

"I imagine he didn't want anyone to know where you were. We know how to hide the biggest secrets."

"Thank you," Sarah said softly, "For taking care of him. I don't know how to thank you."

"Oh. There are no thanks necessary. Although, I would appreciate seeing some little Jameses running around. Quite soon, or so James tells me."

Sarah blushed. "We're to be married," she admitted. _If he ever comes back,_ she said to herself.

"He will."

"God willing."


	5. Returning

**Returning  
By Simply Shelby**

A letter arrived, addressed to Sarah.

The second Mrs. Ludwick handed it to her, she ripped it open and began to read, hungry for any word.

_Sarah, _it read in James's familiar scrawl,

_Dr. Franklin's words echo in my ears now, "We must all hang together, or, most assuredly, we will all hang separately", and I must beg your forgiveness for keeping you in the dark. Even without war and treason and independence at the forefront of our minds, this statement holds true. By prohibiting your participation, I realise now, several ideas that should have had your input ran their course without it. A mistake I mean to rectify in the future, I give my word, Sarah. Although, in my defense, I decided upon this course of action solely in an attempt to protect you. From what Ludwick has written, I succeeded on this front only to fall short with the battle of reassuring your worries. You have my sincerest apologies for my oversight in this matter. _

_I would never, on any account, ever abandon you, Sarah.  
You may cease your worrying, as I will not be far behind this letter._

_Missing you,  
James Hiller_

Sarah looked up from the letter to the Ludwick's expectant faces. "I'd forgotten how beautiful he could make words sound." She swallowed thickly, banishing back the tears from the corners of her eyes. Joyful tears, thankful tears. "He's returning."

Mr. Ludwick nodded. "He mentioned that in his letter to me."

Sarah clutched the letter as if it were James himself and glared accusingly at the baker. "You never told me you had contact with him."

The man smiled, indulgently. "I was under strict orders not to."

If Sarah Phillips were anything but the daughter of a Lady, she would have cursed the baker and the journalist. Instead, she turned to Mrs. Ludwick and declared with a shake of her head, "Men." And made her way quickly up the staircase and shut herself in her room, intending to have a good cry.

* * *

Early the next morning, so early, not even the sun had thought about rising, Sarah heard horse hooves lightly pounding against the cobblestone outside. Throwing the bedclothes to the edge of the bed and moving quickly to the window, Sarah caught a glance of Mr. Ludwick leading a horse into the barn. Her eyes widened in realisation and she snatched up her dressing gown, skipping steps to make her way down the staircase.

Mrs. Ludwick was standing by the stove and Sarah could smell the familiar scent of biscuits baking in the oven and sausage gravy bubbling on the stove. Her hopeful green eyes met with Mrs. Ludwick's confirming ones. Sarah turned to rush out the front door, only to have it open. She jumped back in surprise.

James Hiller stepped through the door, looking ragged and rugged. His blonde hair was almost brown with dirt and his skin was tanned a darker colour than Sarah remembered. His clothes were tattered at the edges and torn in some places, but it was nothing Sarah couldn't mend, she was sure. And, if she looked close enough, she could identify a few new cuts and bruises, but it was nothing that wouldn't heal with time. And his face… his eyes were dazzling with happiness and a small smile was quirking at the corners of his mouth.

She couldn't seem to breathe.

He lifted the leather strap of his pack and ducked under it, setting it gently by the doorway, not taking his eyes off her for a second. Finally, finally, he spoke. "Sarah?"

At the sound of his voice, Sarah flew into his arms. He stumbled a bit at the contact and winced as she hit a few bruises, but wrapped his arms around her, nonetheless. Burying his nose into her hair, he breathed deeply. "Oh, Sarah," she loved the way he said her name, "I've missed you," he admitted softly, exhausted.

She couldn't speak. Tears soaked the front of James's shirt and she burrowed herself deeper into his arms.

"I'm back now, though. Nothing to cry about." His hands petted her long, fiery hair, soothingly.

"Nothing to cry about," she repeated, with a bit of disbelief. "Nothing to cry about?" Pulling back from him and summing up her most powerful glare, she looked up at him. "You go off and disappear for weeks on end, without giving me a hint as to what you were doing or where you were going and putting me in the care of people I've never met before—_that's_ nothing to cry about?" she said lowly, but vehemently.

He shrugged, unconcerned as ever. "Maybe a little bit of tears," he conceded. "Then you can read about it." He reached for his leather pack and pulled out a stack of papers.

She stepped back. "You left me," she asked, disbelief lacing her tone, "For a story?"

He frowned. "Not necessarily. It was a matter of national security, but I decided it needed writing up."

She snorted, quite unladylike, and shook her head, "Always the journalist."

He held out an arm, inviting her back inside his embrace. "Of course." She stepped inside and grabbed the papers from him. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

No, indeed, she would not.

* * *

**AN: **This chapter is dedicated to SMARTALIENQT for reminding me there was a story that needed updating.  



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